


Perspective

by Meatball



Series: UkaTake Weekend 2016 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hogya, M/M, There IS a little blood, but only a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball/pseuds/Meatball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's December and Karasuno's former coach is helping the team train for the Spring Tournament. Takeda can't get comfortable around him.</p><p>* * * * *</p><p>Ukai-san’s reputation precedes him, a man whose coaching was — is — known to have been rather brutal and unforgiving. Enough to scare some students into quitting the team, some permanently. “He’s mellowed out some,” Sawamura had told Takeda at practice once, which really wasn’t much comfort. It isn’t as if Takeda had a baseline to compare it against. He still seemed terrifying. The members of the Karasuno Neighborhood Volleyball Team confirmed Sawamura’s assessment during one of their nights out, but that kernel of fear remained firmly embedded in him. Takeda knows that when he does look at the situation objectively, there really isn’t much ground for him to be so scared. Still, he can’t help his apprehension.</p><p>It’s probably because he’s dating Ukai’s grandson.</p><p>Well, it isn’t as if the old man knows. </p><p>He doesn’t.</p><p>He can’t.<br/> </p><p> </p><p>for <a href="http://ukatake-week.tumblr.com/">UkaTake Weekend 2016</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 Prompt: Family/Team

 “We’re really grateful for all the time you’ve been spending with us, Ukai-san.” Takeda Ittetsu bows low to the tall, old man standing at the edge of the volleyball court. “I hope it hasn’t been overly taxing.”

“Stop worrying, Sensei,” Ukai Ikkei responds gruffly, keeping his eyes on the players still milling about on the court. “I’m fine. And if you must know,” he glances down at the club’s advisor, “I’ve got my doctor’s approval to do this. I won’t be dying in your gym.”

A barely audible squeak escapes Takeda’s throat and he gives the old man another quick bow to avert his eyes. “Ah! O-of course, Ukai-san!” he stammers, laughing nervously. He risks a glance when he straightens back up and releases a long, slow breath when he sees that Ukai’s attention is back on the court.  

He really shouldn’t be so anxious around him by now. The old coach has been by almost every week since the prefecturals to help out with the team’s practices, even showing up at Nekoma for one of the practice matches, trading shit with his old rival.

Ukai-san’s reputation precedes him, a man whose coaching was—is—known to have been rather brutal and unforgiving. Enough to scare some students into quitting the team, some permanently. “He’s mellowed out some,” Sawamura had told Takeda at practice once, which really wasn’t much comfort, given Takeda's baseline is the mellowed-out old man. He still seemed terrifying. The members of the Karasuno Neighborhood Volleyball Team confirmed Sawamura’s assessment during one of their nights out, but that kernel of fear remains firmly embedded in him. Takeda knows that when he does look at the situation objectively, there really isn’t much ground for him to be so scared. Still, he can’t help his apprehension.

It’s probably because he’s dating Ukai’s grandson.

Well, it isn’t as if the old man knows.

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

Takeda shifts his weight restlessly from one leg to the other and back. He nibbles on the inside of his lower lip, mind drifting to all the different ways that everything could fall apart for the younger Ukai if their relationship were ever to come out in the open.

He’d decided long ago, when his relationship with the current coach took a deeper turn. He could weather the loss of his own job, the loss of face from the people of this town, even the loss of this relationship. He can leave. He _would_ leave if he had to. Ukai has lived here all his life; Takeda wouldn’t take that from him.

And he wouldn’t risk taking Coach Ukai from this team that needs him so much.

“Watch out!”

Several voices echo across the court. Takeda snaps back to reality, his eyes catching a glimpse of Azumane’s horrified face shortly before the volleyball blocks his view.

 

* * *

 

“Oi, everyone, move out of the way.” Coach Ukai’s—the younger one, Keishin's—firm voice rings in Takeda’s head, followed by a chorus of others.

“He’s bleeding!” The voices are fuzzy, muffled. Takeda can’t be sure but judging from the pitch, that one could be Hinata. Or Yachi. _Who’s bleeding?_

“Oh god! Did Asahi-san kill him?” Takeda figures that voice to be Tanaka’s. Or was that Nishinoya?

“He’ll be okay. It looks like he just bit his lip,” _That one was definitely Shimizu._ “Yacchan, get the first aid bag, please.” _Who’s bleeding?_

“Y-yes!” comes Yachi’s response, followed by small, quick thumps as she runs to the back room.

Takeda groans and opens his eyes to blurry heads hovering over him, the taste of of metal heavy in his mouth.

“M-my glasses…,” he croaks, hand reaching out blindly. He swallows thickly and realization hits. I’m _bleeding._ Shimizu kindly places his glasses on his face.

The blurry heads come into focus as Shimizu swipes a towel along the corner of his mouth then presses it back down. On his other side is Keishin, brows knit together in worry, squatting down to check on him. And looming above Keishin is his grandfather, his face neutral — insofar as scowling is neutral — and unreadable. Takeda’s nerves get the better of him and he jerks to a sitting position, nearly colliding with Keishin.

“Ow, owowow,” Takeda hisses, hand reaching to his nape as a wave of pain rushes up his neck and head.

“Oi, don’t get up so fast,” the younger Ukai warns, laying a hand on Takeda’s shoulder, voice laced with concern. He’s holding back, Takeda can hear it. Being professional. Takeda smiles, acknowledging the unspoken, and winces at the sting in his mouth. He swallows and tastes the blood.

“I should rinse my mouth out or something,” Takeda says, getting up with Shimizu and Ukai’s assistance. “And grab some aspirin,” he chuckles. “Azumane’s arms should be registered as dangerous weapons.”

“I-I’m sorry, Sensei!” Asahi sputters from behind Ukai the Elder, mortified.

Takeda smiles kindly and waves him off. “No, no, Azumane-kun, I’ll be alright.” He refuses Keishin’s assistance as well, insisting that he stay with the team. “I just need to get the pain meds from the medical bag and maybe head to the bathroom for a minute.”

Yachi emerges from the back room just then, lugging a rather large backpack. Takeda tips his head down to the elder Ukai in apology.

“Ah, I’m sorry for causing such trouble,” he stammers. _Wow. Even talking hurts._ “I should have been paying closer attention. Pardon me!” Takeda excuses himself from the two coaches and heads over to meet Yachi, followed closely by Shimizu.

The pills and ice pack Yachi hands him are such sweet relief.

 

* * *

 

“Oi, Ojii-san,” the younger Ukai mumbles. The old man responds with a questioning grunt.

“Stop scaring people already,” Keishin answers.

“What are you going on about?” his grandfather asks.

“You always look like you’re about to kill someone. You’re freaking Takeda-sensei out,” Keishin grumbles.

“Eh? He doesn’t need to freak out about shit,” his grandfather snaps back. “He’s been nothing but a boon to this team, unlike some good-for-nothing grandsons.”

“ _Eh?_ ” Keishin raises his voice and turns to the old man, eyes narrowed and challenging. “Are you forgetting who’s been coaching the team that won Prefecturals?”

The senior Ukai doesn’t move, feet planted squarely, arms crossed against his chest, observing the players. He spares a glance at his grandson. “And I hear you had to be dragged kicking and screaming into it.” He raises a knowing eyebrow.

Keishin opens his mouth to speak and clamps it shut almost immediately, his retort dying a quick death. Instead, he stares at his grandfather wordlessly. _Well, shit._

“Hmph,” the former coach responds to Keishin’s glare. “Anyone watching can see how much that man has invested into this team. He knew nothing about the game but he’s learned everything he can short of playing it himself. He’s reconnected our old ties and hunted down every way possible to make sure these boys fly. Takeda is a treasure, son. A good man. I’m not sure you realize how lucky you are to have him.”

The younger Ukai stands speechless, jaw slack, at his grandfather’s sudden harangue. When he gathers himself, he turns back to face the court, crossing his arms and adopting the same stance as his grandfather, saying nothing else in return.

_I know._

A long silence settles between them, the squeaking of shoes, the bounce of the ball, and the player’s calls the only sounds echoing in the gym. Keishin glances over to where Takeda is seated along the wall, holding an ice pack to his face. They nod to each other in acknowledgement and Keishin turns his attention back to practice. It’s his grandfather who breaks the silence.

“Your grandmother wants to do something with the family for Christmas.”

“Eh? Why now?”

The older man’s face wrinkles in annoyance. “Why not? Can’t an old woman want her family around?”

Keishin pouts but has no argument. He sighs. “When should I be there?”

“Spend the day, Keishin,” his grandfather says. “You’re only ever over for practice or to help with the farm. She wants to spend time with you.”

Keishin takes a moment to think the offer over. Spending the whole day there means Ittetsu, having no family nearby, would spend the whole day alone. He opens his mouth to negotiate the time when he’s interrupted.

“Bring Takeda with you. If he doesn’t have family to visit.”

 _What._ Keishin catches himself and closes his mouth before he could have the opportunity to stand dumbly once again. He remains quiet as he sorts through the thoughts running around in his head.

“Is that okay?” He asks finally. “I mean, I thought you said it’s a family thing.”

The old man turns his head to his grandson. “Isn’t he your family?” He asks pointedly. Keishin’s lips part as his jaw loosens once again and his resolve to not look like an idiot fails.

“Look, son,” Ukai says. “I’m old, not blind. And not stupid. And neither is Coach Nekomata.” He leaves the last statement hanging, as if it explains everything. Keishin stares.

“If he’s your family then he’s our family,” his grandfather declares decisively.

Keishin keeps staring, unable to process what he’s hearing. His thoughts are a jumble and in his confusion, he can’t focus on a single one. _What._

“Close your mouth, Keishin. You look like an idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Hogya!](http://idontevenswim.tumblr.com)


End file.
